Life before the Agency
by TamaraJagellovsk
Summary: When John Hart's pre adolescence screening comes back 'bisexual switch', which even in the 24th century still amounts to 'slut' on the Earth Colony that is his home world, he starts trying to figure out who he is. Will he be able to make a place in the world for himself when the one person who is supposed to help and protect him turns against him? SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING for abuse
1. Chapter 1

**SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING for abuse. John's early life is traumatic, so if you're sensitive to sexual abuse triggers, this is NOT your story!**

John tried not to fidget while the doctor checked the data on his screen. Pre Adolescence Identity and Orientation Screening - probably the most important day in John's life so far. Mila was practically bursting with curiosity. She'd made him promise to contact her _immediately_ after they were done at the doctor's office. John took a breath when the doc looked from the screen to him and then to his mother.

"John's bi, with a high probability of poly, and he's a strong nine for kink."

"Preference?", John's mother asked, her tone perfectly neutral.

"Natural switch, with a distinct tendency for both submission and masochism."

John grinned at the doc, blue eyes sparkling.

"That pretty much means I can have them all, right?"

The man let out a small laugh.

"You're a little young, but yes, basically, you could put it that way."

John glanced at his mother, and the smile vanished from his face. He had just turned thirteen, but he'd always been good at reading people. Especially his mother. Right now he could tell from the way her usually full lips tightened, and how that little muscle in her jaw twitched, that she was not impressed. He knew she wouldn't voice that feeling in public – but then again she didn't have to. She knew he'd sense it. And they both knew there would be consequences.

They didn't talk on the walk home even though John's mind was going a light year an hour. There were a million things he wanted to say, but what kept circling in his mind was that his mother wasn't happy with his results. The one person on the planet that had always taken care of him suddenly didn't like what he was anymore. She didn't approve of what he was about to become. That felt scary, and it hurt. Maybe he could do something about it? They always said those screenings weren't 100% accurate at such a young age – maybe some of it wasn't true?

And then he realized that no matter how irritated his mother might be – he himself was actually happy about his results. They fit, they _felt_ right, and he was excited about them. Like he was stronger and more grown up than when he'd woken up that morning. He smiled when he imagined Mila's reaction. Oh _she_ was going to like those results...He wanted to call her right away, but he was scared that it might set his mother off even more. And besides he didn't want her to listen in when he had that conversation with his best friend.

The nice warm feeling disappeared when he thought about the kind of conversation he would have with his mother once they were home. What if she didn't want to talk about it at all? Maybe she'd make him take another test, see another doc? A little nugget of irritation formed inside him. What his mother referred to as his Temper, capital T, flared to life. Those were his results, and they felt right. He hadn't chosen them, they were facts.

For the first time in his life he felt like he was his own person. An independent being, not a part of his mother.

It felt good – and scary; like losing something that had always been there, and he wasn't sure yet if there was anything to gain in return. He kept looking at her from the corner of his eyes, and she felt distant, as if she was drifting away from him. Or more like he was drifting away from her. If that happened, he'd be utterly alone, and it scared the hell out of him.

Right there, on the streets of his home town, walking beside his silent mother, he made a decision. He would find a way to prove to her that he was still her son, loyal, loving. That side of him she didn't like? He'd lock it away where it wouldn't bother her. He'd explore it, maybe even embrace it eventually, but he'd keep it out of her sight. He took a breath and straightened his shoulders. From now on, he'd be two different people.

When they finally made it home John looked up at his mother. Keeping his voice low he asked her:

"Are you mad at me?"

She let out an irritated sound and threw the envelope with his results on the kitchen table. Turning to him she said:

"Well, let's face it. Basically you're a slut. Greedy and indecisive. Not what I expected from my son."

He flinched. It wasn't fair. But she was his mother, and he needed her. So he took a step towards her.

"I'm sorry, mother."

She sighed:

"I guess it can't be helped."

Pulling him close with a surprisingly strong grip on the back of his neck she murmured:

"Which means we'll have to find a way to make use of it."

Her words made him uncomfortable, but her warmth, the strength of her embrace, felt good. Safe. She loved him. He wasn't what she wanted him to be, something about him was wrong, but she loved him anyway.

"I love you", he said quietly, grateful, relieved that she didn't raise her voice, didn't push him away.

She smiled against his hair.

"I love you, too, beautiful complicated child."

They stood like that for a few minutes until his mother drew back.

"Did you understand everything the doctor told you?"

He looked up at her, noticing the light reflecting in her short brown curls.

"I think", he said, his voice a little unsure. "We talked about that stuff in school."

"Theory", his mother said.

He swallowed.

"Well, yeah."

She looked at him with a small smile, gently stroking his hair. Her fingertips ghosted over his cheek, lifting his chin.

"I think a person needs more than theory to understand their true self."

She leaned towards him, holding his gaze, chocolate brown eyes meeting his, and brushed a gentle kiss against his lips.

"Do you trust me, John?"

He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry, an uneasy, ugly feeling spreading from his stomach. He knew the right answer to that, but it took him a few seconds to actually say it.

"Yes, mother."

"Good boy", she all but purred. "Prove it."

He looked at her, blue eyes wide, unsure what she expected him to do.

"Give me your hands."

He was confused, but he held out his hands to her. She closed one strong hand around both his slender wrists.

"Submissive, the doc said. Do you understand what that means?"

A wave of contradicting emotions washed over John. They had talked about that in school, and the teacher's explanation, the pictures she had shown the class, had stirred something in John. That same feeling hit him like a ton of bricks now, a lot stronger than in class. And at the same time he felt like jerking his hands away from his mother in disgust.

He resisted that impulse, reminding himself that he was trying to be a good son.

"I think...some of your clients are submissive, right? It means they want you, or one of your people, to do stuff to them. They _...like_ it."

"Call it what it is, John", she reprimanded him, "words hold power."

He refused to meet her eyes.

"It turns them on."

"Exactly."

He could hear the smile in her voice. She let go of his wrists and stood behind him.

"Cross them behind your back."

He trembled as he obeyed, very slightly, but she was used to noticing these things, and her smile widened.

"Good boy", she said once more, her voice like silk. A tone of voice he had never heard from her before – at least not when she was talking to _him_.

"Kneel", she said, and her voice was still soft, but it held a power he couldn't resist. So he obeyed her again, the trembling getting stronger, his cheeks burning. He felt like breaking away from her, running from the room; he thought this couldn't possibly be happening – and still it felt intriguing, like an adventure, exciting and intense. He felt shaky, and he was almost grateful that he didn't have to stand.

"Tell me what's on your mind, John", his mother said, not touching him, but so close. His face felt even hotter and he had to swallow a few times.

"I – don't know."

A moment later he felt her grip on the back of his neck, strong, hard, bordering on painful.

"Unacceptable. Try again."

John felt tears well up in his eyes.

"Please, mother", he begged her, overwhelmed, unable to handle the situation. She let go and stepped around him, pulling his head against her hip. She held him for a moment, and then she said:

"Look at me."

He searched her face, trying to read her, but she looked entirely alien to him.

"Try. Again", she said, voice cold, face set in stone, and he realized he wouldn't get out of this unless he told her what she wanted to hear. So he did.


	2. Chapter 2

John hid in his room. He didn't want to think of it as hiding, but that was basically what he was doing. He pulled the blanket around his slender body and curled up in a fetal position. His throat hurt as if he had been crying for hours, but his eyes were dry. He checked his comm – seven messages from Mila, both text and voice mail and even a hologram. He wanted nothing more than to talk to her, to get this feeling off his chest, but he didn't know what to say to her. She was waiting for him to tell her about the screening, and he had been looking forward to telling her, but now everything felt twisted and spoiled – and the worst part was that if Mila asked him what had happened he wouldn't even know what to say. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Text. He could handle text. He'd text Mila, give her the short version, and tell her they could talk the next day. By then he would have calmed down enough for her not to notice that something was wrong. He felt a small smile spread over his face. She'd been waiting for his test more eagerly than _he_ had. Since she was a few weeks older than him she had gotten her results already, and they had said 'straight'. Which meant they had what Mila called 'a match' now. His smile widened as he imagined the way her green eyes would sparkle and the freckles on her nose would look like they were dancing. He wondered if her hair was still that pale shade of pink he had last seen on her – it had been the day before, but that didn't mean anything with Mila. He kept teasing her about how her hair changed color depending on her mood, as if it did it without her help.

He suddenly missed his best friend as badly as if they'd been separated for years. He wanted to talk to her, but he was afraid he'd start crying, so he decided to check her messages and send that text instead.

When he walked up to Mila the next morning she was literally bouncing. The moment he was close enough that she wouldn't have to yell she beamed:

"So, bi? Really?"

He grinned at her enthusiasm.

"Yup."

She held out her fist and he bumped it.

"That is so cool."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah! I was afraid you'd get 'gay'."

"Nope."

She looked at him with her trade mark sweet smile, and the freckles _were_ dancing, but there was a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

"So we have a match."

"M-hm."

"So - can I?"

"What?"

"Kiss you, dummy."

He smiled back at her.

"Sure", he said softly.

She leaned in and brushed her lips against his. It felt nice, warm and soft, and she tasted sweet and minty. He wanted it to last, so he moved in a little closer. Mila made a startled little sound, but then he felt her smile. She broke the kiss but immediately wrapped her arms around him. Her body felt just as warm and soft as her kiss had, and he clung to her a little harder than he had planned to. She freed herself and frowned at him.

"Are you OK?"

The stupid feeling in his throat was back, so he just nodded. Which didn't convince her at all.

"Johnny? What's up with you? And why on this planet didn't you answer your comm all day? You _knew_ I was waiting for those results. Because, duh, I'd been bugging you about the whole thing for like forever."

He just pulled her close again.

"Can we go to the beach after school?"

"Erm, sure, I guess? I'll text mom at recess. _Someone_ will have time to take us."

Mila came from a big family. Her parents as well as her siblings considered John a family member, and her mom always joked that she'd lost count of her children anyway. John let go, looking a little embarrassed. Mila punched his shoulder.

"Come on. We're gonna be late _again_ , and you'll officially be a Bad Influence."

"Yeah", John snorted, "because you're such a good girl."

"I am! Or I used to be before you corrupted me!"

The both started giggling but hurried to class. If they got detention again the whole going to the beach thing would be dead in the water – pun intended – before they'd even get a chance to ask.

John came home from the beach just in time. Mila's parents knew Elaine was strict about her rules, and being home when he was supposed to be was one she took particularly seriously. When he entered the kitchen, the room that his mother's people used to hang out and talk to each other away from the clients, a woman roughly Elaine's age looked up and smiled at him.

"Hey sweetie. Your mom's not in. She asked me to tell you she'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

John started to smile. An evening with Joanna was always fun. Unless -

"Are you working tonight?"

"Nope, all yours."

The boy's smile widened as he sat down at the table. Joanna put down his favorite mug in front of him.

"I know, I know, you're way too old for hot chocolate..."

"...but since you went to all that trouble how could I break your heart by rejecting it."

They both grinned at the old joke, and John gave her a grateful look over the rim of his mug. She sat back comfortably, nursing her own glass of dark liquid, surely something stronger than hot chocolate.

"So, IOS? What did the doc have to say?"

John rolled his eyes and grimaced.

"Can we talk about school instead?"

Joanna arched an eyebrow.

"That bad?"

"No, just..."

He shrugged.

"You don't wanna talk about it."

"Yeah..."

He bit his lip, unsure of her reaction, but she just smiled.

"OK, fine, school then. How did that science project go?"

John's eyes lit up.

"The experiment went really well and the report was so easy to write! Miller sighed when I submitted it and grumbled something about me ruining his weekend, but I think he was actually proud of me."

The kid's cheeks were a little flushed and the mixture of excitement and embarrassment was too cute. Joanna chuckled.

"You know I never understood much of that fancy tech stuff, but I do like your enthusiasm."

John blushed in earnest at that.

" _Don't_ say the c-word."

"What? Cute?"

"Urgh. I am not cute. I wasn't even cute when I was little. Ever."

Another low chuckle and a deep sigh.

"Enthusiasm isn't a bad thing, John. You're good at something. That's worth a lot."

She rose.

"Speaking of tech. My entertainment unit is having hiccups again. Think you could take a look at it some time?"

"Sure, want me to do it right now?"

"No, that's not necessary. You should eat something first."

"I ate at Mila's place. It's no big deal. Show me."

While John was working methodically through the settings of Joanna's EU she studied him closely. He was still a kid, all soft and delicate, his face sweet and his eyes the colors of the sea he loved so much, a bit of hot chocolate in one corner of his mouth. But beneath the softness she could sense his wit, his ability to plan and focus, and the strong will he'd inherited from his mother. From what he'd told her that will – some would call it stubbornness – did get him in trouble in school sometimes, his inability to sit still, his aversion to authority leading to problems with the more uptight of his teachers. On the other hand, if someone had his respect, he could be a sweetheart. Like with Miller, the science guy. He kept finding projects and assignments to occupy John's restless mind, and the kid adored him. She thought he might even have a little crush on the man.

She cleared her throat.

"You do know you can talk to me about anything you want, right?"

John looked up.

"Huh?"

Joanna huffed out a laugh.

"IOS, or Mila, or whatever else is on your mind."

"Why would I want to talk about Mila?"

"Just saying. Anything, OK? We are still friends, right?"

"If we weren't, I'd charge you for this", he grinned, gesturing to the EU. "Good as new."

"You're done?"

"Yup. Blast away."

He made his way to the door.

"And thanks. You know – for the talking thing. If I ever need it."

Sometimes she thought the boy was a little too smart for his own good, a little too grown up for his age.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time John and Mila were 14, their childhood friendship had morphed into something else. Elaine didn't really approve but basically ignored it. Mila's parents didn't mind, as long as Mila didn't set a foot into Elaine's nightclub. They were considered old enough to go to the beach on their own, and they did so almost every day. They took their homework with them, John helping Mila with the more technical things and Mila returning the favor when it came to languages or literature. Homework done they would enjoy the sun and the sea. Especially John was usually reluctant to pack up and leave the beach, only giving in when Mila started feeling cold or hungry. They'd often eat with Mila's family, John pushing the limits of his curfew as much as he thought he could get away with. He felt good around Mila and her family, relaxed and welcome. They all liked him, her siblings teasing him like they did each other, her parents treating all the kids equally.

One night when it was high time for John to leave, Mila hugged him a little closer and more sincere than he was used to. She gave him a gentle kiss, her eyes closed and her body soft and warm against his. So good – but at the same time it made him restless. They hadn't done anything but kissing, but every time they did he wondered what Mila was expecting from him. And apparently that night she felt bolder than usual, or maybe she was losing patience, because she didn't stop at kissing him on the lips. Her sweet soft mouth wandered a little, placing tiny kisses against his jaw and throat. His heartbeat sped up, and he thought his breathing had sped up, toowhen she pulled back and looked at him, head tilted to one side. She ran her hand over his collarbone. It came to rest on his chest, and her look told him she didn't want to stop. She was trying to judge his reaction before she moved any further, but it was obvious what _she_ wanted. She wanted to touch him, and she probably wanted him to touch her.

"I like you a lot, Johnny, you know that, right?", she said with a small smile, a little unsure, but brave.

He swallowed. Returning her smile he said:

"Yeah. I know."

Her smile widened.

"Not what I was expecting, but hey. A girl takes what she can get."

John chuckled and pulled her close.

"Sorry. I like you, too. A lot."

She drew back.

"So – everybody at school thinks we're – you know..."

"Yeah. They do."

"So why don't we?"

John's jaw clenched for a moment, but it was over so fast Mila didn't even notice it. He smiled at her.

"Are you saying you want me, sweetheart?"

She swatted his chest.

"Don't call me that."

"Baby? Honey?"

She made a face.

"Mila is perfectly fine, thank you very much."

He chuckled again.

"You're such a romantic."

"And you are stalling."

It hit him as if she'd slapped his face. She _was_ losing patience.

She sighed.

"You like me. We've known each other forever. So – what is it?"

This time she did notice the tightening of his jaw. Running a finger over the tense muscle she tilted her head again.

"Am I doing something wrong?"

He stared at her in shock.

"What? No! You're amazing! You're sweet, and smart, and kind, and a little naughty sometimes, and I – trust you."

He blushed, realizing that had sounded a little over the top.

"I mean – we've been friends for so long, and you've never -"

She placed a finger on his lips, which effectively shut him up.

"So what's the problem?"

He swallowed again and broke eye contact.

"I think I'm not – there. Yet."

When she didn't say anything he finally looked back up at her.

"Are you mad at me?"

Oh no. There were tears in her eyes and he hated that.

"I'm sorry, Mila. Please don't be mad. Please."

He leaned in to kiss her, unsure if she'd let him, but she melted against him and he felt relieved. She wouldn't be kissing him if she was angry, right? They broke the kiss and he searched her face.

"I'm not. Mad, I mean", she said after a beat. Thank God.

She drew in a breath.

"I'm just – sad, I guess. This could be really nice I think. You and me. And I don't understand why we can't have it."

John's throat constricted.

"We will. I promise. Just – give me a little more time, OK?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"OK. I just wanna make sure there isn't some chick – or guy – coming by and snatching you away from right under my nose. "

God he loved her for that. They both laughed, the kind of real, heart felt laughter that bubbles up when you realize you've just survived a disaster. He hugged her really tightly and held on to her for a long time.

"I love you", he whispered, and they both realized simultaneously that they'd never said that before. Mila broke free and stared at him.

"Did you just – say what I thought I heard you say?!"

He grinned.

"Want me to repeat myself to make sure?"

She just nodded, fresh tears welling up, but John didn't feel bad about them this time.

"I love you", he said again, low, soft, but determined.

Mila sobbed and laughed and and fought to get her voice under control.

"I love you, too, dummy."


	4. Chapter 4

John was deep in thought all the way home. He'd told Mila he loved her, but did he? He started to smile, and a warm feeling spread through his whole body. God yes. She was his world. So why was the whole sex thing so hard? The warm feeling disappeared as his mother's face drifted into his thoughts. Yeah, he didn't need a degree in psychology to explain _that_. Mila knew everything about him – except what things were like between his mother and him. He'd never found the words to tell her, to tell anyone. How much he depended on her, how scary she could be, how much he loved her, how cold she could get. The things she'd told him, shown him – done to him. The things he'd seen her do. He squared his shoulders. Now how to get himself in the right mindset to make love to his girlfriend before she'd give up on him? The idea of losing her was so painful he didn't even want to consider the possibility. He had to pull this off, and soon. Mila was pretty, and she was popular. She wouldn't have to look far if she decided she'd had it with him. He briefly closed his eyes when he realized he was almost home. He took a deep breath and opened the door to the club, which was starting to buzz with life at this time of night. His mother's hookers and some of the regulars nodded to him as he made his way to their apartment. Elaine was nowhere in sight, and there was a brief moment of relief. She was probably working. But then he ran into her on the way to his room. She knew him well enough to see that something was up the moment she laid eyes on him. Crap. She leaned one hip against the wall of the hallway, arms crossed over her chest.

"John?"

"Hello mother."

He tried to walk past her and straight to his room but she blocked the way.

"What's up, son?"

She sounded calm, genuinely interested. He thought about what to say to throw her off the track, but quickly gave it up. She'd know anyway. He sighed.

"It's Mila."

Elaine raised an eyebrow.

"Should we have this conversation somewhere other than the hallway?"

He huffed out a laugh.

"Probably."

Elaine opened the door to his room and held it open for him. Great. He'd have to talk about _not_ sleeping with his girlfriend with his _mother._ He plopped down on his bed while his mother remained standing. Somehow he got the impression she did that on purpose.

"So, what _about_ Mila?"

He decided he'd make this as quick – and hopefully painless – as possible. There was no use in trying to get out of it anyway.

"She wants us to have sex", he said bluntly.

Elaine's eyebrows went up again.

"Excuse me?"

He gave her a surprised look. Could she really have anything against that?

She looked honestly confused.

"I thought you two had been at it for weeks!"

"Huh? No!"

"Huh", Elaine echoed. John noticed how strange confusion looked on his always confident mother, but then she pulled herself together.

"So Mila wants sex."

"Mhm."

"And?"

"And – I don't."

"Excuse me?!", she said again, irritation seeping into her voice.

"Well, not yet. I – I guess I'm just not there yet."

He flinched a little when he remembered saying the same thing to Mila earlier that night.

Elaine straightened.

"I'll say this exactly once, John. Your girlfriend expects you to perform, and you will. I might not be much of a fan of hers but she obviously has needs and she knows what she wants. So deliver."

John wasn't even surprised. His mother was a feminist brothel owner, running a club that exclusively served female clients. Women's pleasure was her profession as well as her calling. Men didn't play much of a role in her life other than employing them for her straight clients. Someone wanted John – she expected him to comply. End of story.

"It's not like I don't want to", he said.

"But?"

But I keep seeing _you_ , he thought. Absolutely impossible to say that.

She moved closer.

"Do you feel like you need advice?"

Oh God no.

"Or -" she ran a hand down his chest, "motivation?"

Please God no. He tensed and she noticed it.

"I think I know what you need, son."

He just looked up at her, utterly terrified at what she might have in mind, paralyzed with the knowledge that there was no telling her 'no', that she'd do with him and to him what she wanted anyway, that he didn't have a say in it. Strange enough, she probably really believed that she was helping him, even when all he wanted to do was run from her. But where could he have gone? He tried to calm down as much as he could. She gently touched his cheek.

"Close your eyes, son."

Her voice was unusually soft but it scared him anyway. When he didn't obey immediately she framed his face with both hands, brushing her thumbs over his cheekbones.

"Close" - she kissed him - "your eyes."

Still gentle, but there was steel underneath it. So he did.

"I want you to imagine Mila. Picture her. The way she looks at you. Her hands on your skin. Her mouth."

John felt sick to his stomach, holding his breath, afraid she'd act out what she was talking about, but she didn't. Instead he felt something small and smooth touch his lips.

"Open."

After a moment's hesitation he did. Elaine slipped a small pill into his mouth, brushing her thumb over his lower lip.

"Swallow."

His heart raced, but he obeyed again.

"They call it Horizon. It enhances your imagination. It's like planning a dream, a fantasy. You picture what you'd like to experience, and it feels completely real. You can use it to relax, or to prepare for a situation – or simply to have fun."

John felt a shiver run over his skin, and then there was Mila. She leaned close, gently running soft small hands over his body. He heard her laugh, carefree, like she sometimes did when they were at the beach. He could feel the warm sand, the sun caressing his skin, and then there was Mila's breath and the softest touch of her lips against his collarbone. His chest. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard the door of his room open and close, and then he was kissing Mila. Her slender body pressed against him. Her mouth wandering lower. God this felt good. He wanted her, and she wanted him, and he simply gave in.

When he opened his eyes his pants were open and his mouth felt dry. On his bed side table he found an orange pill and a note in his mother's handwriting:

"Hope you had fun. Take this. It's what they call the 'Anchor'. You should always balance Horizon with an Anchor."

John sat on his bed for a long time, rolling the little orange pill between his thumb and fingers, before he finally got up, poured himself a glass of water and downed the pill. He didn't feel anything. There was a faintly metallic taste, but nothing happened.

A few days later John knocked on the door to his mother's study, carrying a tray with three glasses. At her call he entered. Elaine was sitting behind her desk. On the other side were two women in their thirties, seated in arm chairs, looking relaxed. They both looked up and smiled at him and then at each other. One of them, her dark hair cut short and her bright blue eyes sparkling, sat a little straighter.

"Who's the beauty?"

"That's my son, John."

"That's John?! The boy has grown! Last time I saw him he was all sweet innocence - but good Lord he's developed his father's cheekbones!""

John almost dropped the tray. He took a breath, put it down on the desk and passed the glasses to the ladies. Elaine cleared her throat.

"John's father isn't with us anymore."

"Oh. That's a shame."

The client's eyes traveled down John's body.

"Anything else he inherited from his father?"

"Oh yeah."

"So - did you introduce him to the business yet?"

"Are you interested?"

"Mother?! You've got to be kidding me!"

Elaine was on her feet and rounded the desk faster than John had ever seen her move. She backed him into the wall, closed one hand around his balls and squeezed. Tears shot to his eyes and he gasped, but she didn't allow him to speak.

"You don't get to talk to me in that tone, especially not in front of a client, do you understand me?", she hissed.

He nodded, his face a grimace of pain.

"I can't hear you."

"Yes, mother, I understand", he whimpered, and she let go.

"This is what puts bread on our table. It's about damn time you start contributing."

The blond client made a small sound, drawing Elaine's attention to her.

"How much would it cost us to have him to ourselves tonight?"

Elaine turned towards her clients.

"I'm sure we can work something out."

John thought the floor had dropped from under his feet.

"Please, mother", he whispered, low enough for the clients not to catch it. "Please don't."

She turned back to him, a smile on her face.

"Tell you what. Even split. I negotiate for you. You get 50%."

It wasn't a suggestion, and John knew it. She pulled him close.

"It might even help with your little Mila problem. You need experience", she murmured against his ear and kissed his cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

**I decided not to break this part up into shorter chapters like I normally do. TRIGGER WARNING again, I'm serious.**

John was sitting in the shower. The hot water felt good, but it did little to calm his nerves. He'd had to sit down because he was shaking, and he was on the verge of tears. His mind was spinning, images flashing behind his closed eyes. Two beautiful women enjoying themselves. Using him. Teasing him, arousing him. Demanding pleasure. His first time had been a threesome, and money had changed hands. That thought was like bile in his mouth, disgusting and bitter. He hated those women for taking advantage of him, he hated his mother for making profit from it instead of protecting him – and most of all he hated himself for not standing up. Standing up to his mother, to those women. And most importantly - standing up for himself. He wasn't man enough to make love to his girl, but he could let himself be fucked by paying clients. Great. As if he hadn't been messed up enough before. The moment he heard the bathroom door open he started to cry. God please no.

"Did you do the job?"

Elaine's voice was neutral. Inquiring about her business interests. John swallowed and took a breath, trying to keep his voice from betraying the tears.

"Yes."

"Both clients satisfied?"

John remembered the look on their faces.

" _You're young. You'll recover in no time."_

He swallowed again, resting his head against the tiles.

"Yes, mother."

"Good! I'm proud of you!"

She did sound proud, almost cheerful.

"Money's on your desk. Spoil yourself a little."

The door opened and closed once more. John felt laughter bubble up beneath the tears, and he knew it was hysterical. Spoil himself. In his mother's world what had just happened to her teenage son was a reason to celebrate. And he lost it completely. The silent tears turned into a desperate sobbing that he hoped was drowned out by the sound of the running water because there was no way he would be able to make himself stop. He sat there for a very long time.

~o0o~

When Mila opened the door he hoped that she couldn't tell, but of course she could. She took one look at him and went pale.

"Oh my God, Johnny, what happened?"

"Can I just come in and stay the night? Please?"

Mila gave him a soft smile and took a step back.

"Sure."

They sat down on Mila's narrow bed, neither one saying anything. After a while John took off his shoes and lay down on his side, curled up, not looking at Mila. She reached out and touched his temple.

"Can you please talk to me? You're scaring me."

John's eyes flew up to hers and he sat up.

"No! Don't. I didn't mean -"

"Shh", she leaned in for a kiss, and he went stiff. Mila stopped and tilted her head. "What? Can't I kiss my boyfriend?"

John panicked. This was it. He'd either give her what she wanted or he'd be history.

The bitter taste was back. Deliver, his mother had said. He took a few shallow breaths, because somehow he couldn't breath properly, forced himself to relax and met his girlfriend's gentle mouth. This was Mila, he kept reminding himself. He loved her, he'd known her forever, and she loved him. She wanted him. She liked him. She would never do anything to harm him.

She drew back.

God please. I can't screw this up, I just can't. A tiny sound escaped John, and it horrified him. When he opened his eyes Mila was looking at him, her brows furrowed, her green eyes worried.

"John? Please? What's wrong?"

He pulled her close and held on to her as if his life depended on it.

"Can I not talk about it and still stay? Please?"

Mila thought her heart had just broken.

"Of course, silly. Whatever you want."

And for the first time in what felt like forever John really relaxed. He allowed himself to slump against Mila, and she held him, gently stroking the back of his neck above his shirt.

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shook his head. Then he inhaled.

"Actually, you're already doing it."

~o0o~

Mila woke up in the middle of the night because John was restless. Her bed was too small for two unless they cuddled together, and John didn't seem to like that. She moved away from him as much as the bed would allow, and he calmed down, his breathing evening out. It hurt, but she decided she couldn't help it right now, so she got up and left her room, settling down on the couch in the living room instead.

~o0o~

The next time Mila woke up it was to her mother looking down at her, an amused smile on her face.

"Is there a reason you are sleeping in the living room? Something wrong with your bed?"

"John", Mila murmured and buried her head in the cushions.

"Huh?"

Mila opened her eyes and looked at her mother. She sat up and said through a yawn:

"Late last night John showed up and I was really worried about him and he needed a place to stay but then my bed was too small so I moved out here."

Her mom chuckled at the amount of information, but then she turned serious.

"Did he say what was up?"

Mila shook her head.

"Do you think he's in some kind of trouble?"

"I don't know. He's been – weird recently. I mean, he's still cute and all but something's – off."

She didn't go on because she wasn't sure if she wanted to talk about John with her mom, and also because she didn't really know what to say. He wasn't very talkative these days. Her mom took a breath.

"OK. Why don't you go get him and I'll make breakfast. You two need to be in school in forty minutes."

John still didn't talk much during breakfast or on the way to school, and he went home straight after. Mila was getting more and more worried, but he kept assuring her that it had nothing to do with her. When he got home he sat down in the kitchen and waited for Joanna. He'd decided he'd take her up on the talking thing after he'd found a note from his mother that said she'd be home late. He really needed someone to talk to. He didn't have any idea what to say, but he felt like his chest would implode if he didn't. He still wasn't breathing right, and he'd had trouble focusing in school. When Joanna entered the kitchen he immediately felt better. He gave her a genuine smile and she returned it.

"Hey John, what's up?"

"Oh I thought I'd hang out here a little, see who comes by."

Joanna just smirked.

"I feel like hot chocolate. Want some?"

John nodded, and they didn't talk until Joanna had put two mugs down and sat. She took a sip and looked at John over the rim.

"So, school going OK?"

"Yup."

"How's Mila?"

"She's good."

Joanna sat back.

"Sweetie, what's up with you?"

He stared down at the table, absentmindedly playing with his mug.

"Do you remember my dad?"

When Joanna didn't react he looked up. She took another sip.

"Why...how come you're asking me that?"

"Someone – mentioned him."

"Really? Who?"

"Doesn't matter. They seemed to know him. But nobody ever talks about him, and I barely remember him."

John's voice had become more and more quiet. Joanna sighed.

"Your mother – Elaine doesn't want us to talk about him, John. I'm sorry."

"He's my dad!"

John hit the table, frustrated and confused. He took a breath. "Please?"

"What do _you_ remember?"

"He took me to the beach once. Mother didn't like it. They fought about it when we got home."

Joanna closed her eyes for a moment.

"He used to work for her."

"My dad was a hooker?"

"Yeah."

John thought about that for a moment.

"Why did he leave?"

"I don't know, John. I never asked."

John drew up his feet and hugged his knees.

"It was because of me."

"No, sweetie, don't say that. I'm sure it had nothing to do with you."

"It did. I remember. I heard them. They were talking about me. He didn't like something she'd done, and she told him it wasn't any of his business. Soon after that he was gone."

Joanna thought about it, and even though she didn't like it she couldn't help but admit that it made sense. If John's dad had interfered with the kid's upbringing, with the way she was raising him - Elaine wouldn't have accepted that. She was a firm believer in the feminist theory that it takes 100 generations of boys raised without the influence of their fathers to create the new man.

"So he worked for her."

"Yes. She's always employed both men and women. She's always had straight and gay clients - well personally she's only ever had gay clients, but you know what I mean."

"She'd keep men and women around so every woman would 'find something she likes'", he quoted.

Joanna smiled.

"Yeah."

"Or girls." He paused. "Or boys."

Joanna froze.

"What did you just say?"

"Some of them like em young."

Joanna kept staring at him.

"John, what are you talking about?"

When he didn't go on she closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to remember the way some of Elaine's clients were looking at John. Please no.

"John, please talk to me. This is serious business."

"Some of mother's clients like to have me around."

Joanna felt sick all of a sudden.

"When", her throat was so dry she almost couldn't go on, "when did that start?"

"I don't remember."

Oh God. She squatted down in front of him and forced herself to ask:

"Are you telling me that Elaine's clients have been – "

John shook his head but didn't look at her. His voice was hushed.

"No. They never – she just kept me around. In the room. I'd – watch. She'd talk to me. Call me over, tell me to come closer. Sometimes _she_ would touch me. Never the clients though."

Joanna waited for him to go on. When he did, she closed her eyes in pain.

"The _touching_ started last night."

~o0o~

John woke up because he thought he'd heard a loud voice, but when he listened there was nothing. Maybe he'd dreamed it? Something about his parents fighting over him? He realized he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so he got up and sat at his desk. He still hadn't touched the money. Neither had he touched the pills his mother must have put next to it. Her idea of a reward, he thought with a bitter smile. Horizon and Anchor. She hadn't been very specific, but he vaguely remembered hearing or reading about the drugs. Apparently if you balanced them right they weren't addictive and didn't have any side effects. It felt like a really good idea all of a sudden. Forget this mess he was living in and create something good in his mind, something beautiful. Plus it would help him sleep. He downed both pills and went back to bed. Automatically slipping into his preferred sleeping position on his left side he closed his eyes and drew the blanket up over his shoulder.

Warmth. Sand, and waves, and the sun. There was nobody there with him, but that was OK. It was peaceful. And then he felt someone behind him, strong arms pulling him into an embrace, and it felt good! He felt protected and safe, and that person loved him and cared about him. He settled back, relaxing into those arms that didn't do anything but hold him. Secure, protected, safe. Loved. Whatever life might throw at him, the person holding him would be there to defend him. Help. He'd finally found help.

~o0o~

Joanna approached her boss, long time friend and part time lover with a serious look on her face.

"Elaine? Can we talk about John?"

"What did he do?"

"Nothing." She smiled a little. "He's a good kid, Elaine."

"So what is it?"

Joanna bit her lip, a nervous gesture that betrayed how tense she was.

"You know I respect your political beliefs, and I support the cause. I wouldn't still be here after all these years if I didn't."

"But?"

"But he's just a boy, Elaine."

Elaine's lips curled into a bitter half smile.

"He's just another damned man."

Joanna flinched.

"Why are we talking about him?", Elaine demanded, irritation in her voice.

"Because I'm worried. Is it true that you sometimes keep him around when you're working?"

Elaine lifted her chin.

"What if I do?"

"He's a kid, Elaine. Underage. I don't think he should be around the clients."

"I don't think that is any of your business."

"He's your son! It's not healthy. Who knows what it'll do to him."

"I know what I'm doing. You have to teach them young. I had a son for a reason. I kept him away from his father for a reason. He'll be one of the new men. One small but important step for the cause."

She drew a breath, reaching for Joanna. Her voice became softer.

„You know what my father is like. You know how he treats my mother, how he treats me. Hell, just remember the way he treats _you_! We _must_ change that. It's worth it."

"It's child abuse, Elaine. Please! Raise him in the spirit of the cause, but please keep him away from the job while he's still so young."

Elaine paced for a moment, and then she stood straight, holding Joanna's eyes, challenging her.

"What if I don't?"

"Please!"

Elaine took a step closer, her posture an obvious threat.

"The authorities turn up on my door step, throw me in jail and put John in foster care? Is that what you're saying? That you'll go running to the police? Accuse me of child abuse?"

"No. It's just – please Elaine, he's your child! This can't be good. Please."

Elaine turned away.

"I strongly recommend you keep your _worries_ to yourself, Joanna. I do not appreciate anyone interfering with the way I raise my son. Do I make myself clear?"

Elaine stood at the window overlooking the street when Joanna left the club. She watched her for a moment, and then she picked up her phone.

~o0o~

The next evening John overheard his mother talking to a client who was asking for Joanna. She wouldn't be around, Elaine told the woman, immediately making suggestions about who else she might like. John's throat constricted. Joanna wouldn't be around? What was that supposed to mean? And did his mother mean – never again? His heart beat sped up. God please no. It couldn't be. He needed her! He swallowed around the lump in his throat and took a shaky breath. He had to know. He waited for the client to leave his mother's study and knocked.

"Come in!"

John went in and closed the door, standing there with his heart beating in his throat. When Elaine looked up he asked:

"What's up with Joanna?"

His mother fixed him with a stare for a long moment and then went back to the papers in front of her.

"Not your business."

Dismissive, expecting him to leave it at that. He briefly closed his eyes. He was aware that he'd regret his next words, but he felt like he'd choke on them if he didn't ask. Another deep breath.

"Did you fire her? Just like you fired dad?"

Her head came up slowly and she stared at him with narrowed eyes, then stood and walked around her desk. Her eyes never left his – and then she slapped his face, hard, back handed, and then again with her palm. John barely flinched, simply taking the pain and the humiliation that he'd become used to.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to me like that? Do I need to beat it into you? Again?!"

He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible even though he was terrified.

"What happened to Joanna?", he asked again.

His mother drew herself up to her full height, fixing him with a completely cold gaze. There was nothing in her brown eyes; not even anger.

"Someone", she said in a voice he didn't remember her using ever before, "has been exchanging information behind my back. That's a very dangerous thing to do. It's the kind of thing that has consequences."

John stared at her, unable to process what was happening. Was it possible that his mother had – _done_ something to Joanna?!

She moved in.

"Dangerous, and stupid."

Her hand closed around his throat. She was strong, and he was frozen stiff with panic. She fixed him with a stare, her face inches away from his.

"It will", she squeezed, "not happen again."

She held him there for an endless moment, and when she let go he desperately fought for air, forcing it into his lungs past his aching throat.

"Do you understand me, John?"

He nodded, unable to speak.

"Take your shirt off and turn", she ordered, and he did, gripping the edge of the table with both hands, knowing full well what was coming. She used a riding crop and he knew why she'd picked it. This wasn't her punishing him for mouthing off. This was about domination. She was beating him into submission, aiming to break him. And she wouldn't stop until she'd gotten him there. His back was on fire and his face was wet with tears when she stopped. For one blissful moment he thought it was over, but then she reached for his belt buckle and pushed his jeans to his ankles.

He hung his head and whispered:

"Please, mother."

"Fuck you, John. I am sick and tired of having to teach you respect. Bend over."

"Please", he sobbed again, but it only made her angrier, and the crop came down on his butt and thighs again and again until his knees gave way. She grabbed him by the hair and forced him to look at her.

"Did you understand the lesson, _son_?", she hissed between clenched teeth, and he nodded, making himself say it out loud because he knew that was what she was waiting for. She dropped him, and then she threw the crop on the floor next to him.

"Get this cleaned", she said, voice dripping with disgust, and left the room.

~o0o~

John fled. He locked his door and curled up on the floor, shaking and in tears, his whole body on fire and his mind racing. Joanna. What had his mother done to her? Would she – was Elaine capable of murder? He tried to shake off the idea, but if he was honest with himself – she probably was. It started feeling like a fact, a horrible, terrifying truth. Joanna was dead. She was dead because of him. Because she'd tried to help him. She died because he couldn't keep his mouth shut, because he hadn't been able to deal with his shit on his own. He'd been weak, and it had gotten a woman killed. He tried to evoke the Horizon fantasy – a Morgana they called it – again, the one where he was being held, but without the drug and with his mind in turmoil it didn't work. He desperately wanted to talk to Mila, spill his guts to her, get it all off his chest, but he realized he couldn't. Nobody could ever know. He had learned that lesson alright. But he wanted to see her, be around her, have _her_ hold him – and he couldn't even have that. There was no way he could have hidden the welts from her. He was utterly alone, with nobody to protect him from his mother. He felt a bitter, hysterical laughter rise. He shouldn't have to be protected from his own mother, but it was true. She was dangerous, she was cruel, and there was nothing he could do. He'd never raised a hand against her. All he'd ever done was love her, trying so hard to make her love him, to avoid upsetting her, and it just wouldn't work. He'd never been good enough.

~o0o~

John avoided being alone with Mila until he was sure she could no longer see what his mother had done to him. He could tell it worried her, but she didn't say anything. When he finally suggested a day at the beach she beamed at him, relief pouring off of her in waves. It turned out to be a good day, both of them relaxed and happy to be together. They walked home – Mila's home – holding hands, and at her door she turned, looking at him with serious eyes.

"I'd really like you to stay, John", she said, her voice soft, her eyes pleading, expectant. John's gut clenched. This was it. He managed a smile, gave her a little bow, and his voice sounded almost smug:

"Your wish is my command."

She chuckled and melted against him, warm, soft, gentle. This was Mila. She was no threat. She loved him, and she wanted to be with him. They made it to her room without running into a single family member, which was a small miracle. Mila ran her hands down John's chest and stomach and up again, pushing up his shirt. He lifted his arms and she pulled it over his head, placing kisses against his neck, humming against his throat. He smiled and kissed her hair – which was a bright shade of blue at the moment. She reached for his belt, looking at him with a sweet smile that was equal parts mischief and insecurity. And he froze. He hated himself for it and tried to cover it up by wrapping his arms around her, but of course she'd noticed. The smile fell from her face.

"What is it, John? Please talk to me. You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Yeah right. As if. I have my mother stuck in my head, and what she does to me, oh and the two clients I lost my virginity to. As if he could tell her that. He cleared his throat and took a step back.

"I'll be right back", he murmured. "Don't go anywhere."

He slipped out of her room and into the bathroom, grateful for the atypical absence of Mila's family. Locking the door behind himself he leaned against it for a moment, and then he pulled two pills out of his pocket. If he managed to evoke a "blank Morgana", that should do the trick. No emotions, no memories, none of his issues interfering with the moment. He'd have to focus, and he probably wouldn't feel much, but his body should respond just fine. He would be able to give Mila what she wanted, and he wouldn't lose her. And it might even be nice for him. At least he'd get to snuggle up to her afterward, and she'd be happy. He swallowed both pills and closed his eyes, evoking the picture of an empty white room. It felt a little dull, but quiet and safe. He could do this.

~o0o~

Over the next few months John got used to the helpful little pills – the only problem was that Anchor was way more expensive than Horizon and he couldn't always afford both. He tried to cut back on it, only using it when things got too much to bear. Luckily Mila was a sweetheart, and he started actually enjoying being with her. It felt good, and he finally let himself relax into her touches. He avoided being home as much as he could, spending as much time as possible with Mila and her family, and things looked a little brighter.

Until a few days after his 15th birthday Elaine cornered him when he had just been about to leave the house.

"Where do you think you're going?", she said, but her voice sounded more playful than stern. It confused him. She didn't wait for him to answer. "We haven't been spending any time together recently", she said, softly touching his cheek. He swallowed.

"How about we spend tomorrow evening together, and you let me see Mila tonight?"

Elaine chuckled.

"Sweet. Trying to negotiate. That's my son!"

Without warning she slapped his face.

"But."

Another slap.

"Never try to negotiate if you don't have any leverage."

His heart sank. He knew he wouldn't leave the house any time soon, and he was proven correct when Elaine took his hand and led him towards one of her business bedrooms. He was relieved to find it empty. Whatever she had in mind, at least there would be no clients.

Elaine closed and locked the door, the unmistakable sign that she didn't want to be disturbed. Her people would assume that she was working. Which was true. This was a crucial moment in her relationship with her son, maybe _the_ crucial moment. This would break him, and afterward he'd either be useless or perfect.

She was tense, excited, even a little nervous. Taking a deep, calming breath she turned towards him. And how beautiful he was! All sharpening angles and awakening masculinity, but still slender enough, almost frail. She'd have to make sure he didn't gain too much muscle. His features had sharpened over the last year, losing the innocent, almost angelic sweetness he'd had as a young child. Irresistible. She would make a fortune with him if she played it right. More and more of her clients were licking their lips already, pushing her to put him to work.

She took another breath and smiled at her stunning young son.

"Come on, let's play!"

Touching a familiar blue pill to his full lips she said softly:

"Open."

Oh how she loved it when he obeyed her without hesitation. His blue eyes looked almost turquoise. He swallowed the Horizon and didn't even ask about an Anchor. Brave little guy.

"Close your eyes", she murmured, and again he obeyed. The trade mark shiver ran over him, and his body relaxed, indicating his mind was ready to develop the Morgana, open for suggestion.

"Keep your eyes closed. Imagine Mila. She's undressing you. She wants you, and you want her. You long for her touch, you can't wait to be naked before her eyes."

His mother's voice faded to a background noise, like the rustling of leaves or the murmur of waves. He was looking at his girlfriend, cheeky smile, bright red hair, sparkling green eyes. She opened his belt and stroked him through his jeans. He let out a soft moan. He wanted to be free, to be inside her, wanted her to take him inside. Warm, wet, tight. She kept stroking him, and he started panting. She pushed him to his knees. He looked up at her, beautiful, strong, the way he'd always wanted her to be. He loved being at her feet, worshiping her, pleasing her. His jeans just disappeared.

"I love that you're naked underneath", she purred.

"My mother trained me that way", he said, his voice sounding distant to his own ears.

"You're a good son. Obedient."

Mila slipped her dress over her head, fully naked in an instant. She stood close, her hips level with his face. He inhaled and let out a small moan, and then he kissed her.

"You wanna taste me?"

"God yes!"

Looking up at Mila straddling him, rolling her hips, her eyes closed. She opened them and looked at him.

They were chocolate brown.

Her face morphed into Elaine's.

John's eyes flew open and he screamed in horror, throwing her off of him, and then the world went black.

~o0o~

When he woke up he felt confused. What a weird dream that had been. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't in his bed, wasn't in his room. And then he recognized the room, and he felt sick all of a sudden. He looked up – and froze. He couldn't stop staring at the lifeless body on the floor in a pool of blood, the base of her skull cracked where it had hit the edge of a heavy table. He tried to remember what had happened. His mother had brought him there, forced a Morgana on him – how much of what he remembered had been in his head – and how much had been real? There was cold sweat on his face and running down his back. He was naked, and so was she. And she wasn't breathing, he was almost sure of that. He couldn't remember – she'd been close, and then – had he pushed her away? He felt an eerie calm settle over him like a blanket. He'd killed his mother. Nobody would believe him if he talked about what their life had been like. Mila couldn't know. There was nobody else. He had to disappear.

And so he did. At barely 15, John left a place that had been supposed to be home but had actually been hell, alone, terrified and traumatized. This was the first time he disappeared without a trace.


	6. Chapter 6

_A few months later_

"John, you know I want you in the bedroom when I come home."

"Yes I know. I'm sorry."

He hurried to the bedroom, taking off his clothes in record time but making a point of folding them neatly and putting them on the floor in the corner.

"Come here. What's the rule?"

"I am to be naked, kneeling in the corner with my clothes folded, waiting to see if you want me."

"Exactly. And how did I find you when I came home tonight?"

"Dressed, on the couch in the living room watching a movie."

"Exactly. Do you want me to charge you rent?"

"No sir."

A slap to his face.

"Thank you", John whispered.

"I could make you earn your keep. Who knows, a talented little slut like you might even make a profit. You want that?"

"No sir."

Another slap.

"Thank you."

"Kiss me."

John did, surrendering as much as he could.

"Now do your job, I'm late already because of you."

~o0o~

The moment Gerald had come down John's throat he pushed him away.

"Now you can go back to watching whatever it was."

"Are we not going out tonight?"

"I'm going out. You're staying in. You know why."

"Could you - I mean I'm really hungry."

"I'll bring you something."

"Thank you. Where do you want me to wait for you?"

"Let's make it a game. Try to guess."

"What if I'm wrong?"

"I'll be disappointed with you _again._ "

"Yes sir."

"You're such a beauty John. If only you tried a little harder to please me. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, sir. I'll try harder, I promise."

"Cause you know there's a hundred pretty boys like you out there who might do better, if I gave them the chance I've given you."

"Yes, sir, I know."

"Come here."

He pulled him into a kiss, enjoying the kid's soft, willing mouth. "Such a good boy."

~o0o~

John spent half an hour trying to find the right place - somewhere far in a corner, with his face to the floor? Might get him punishment because Gerald would have to go look for him. Bedroom? Too obvious. Living room? Might look like he was being cheeky. God he was so hungry. He needed some food. Maybe if he got it wrong and took the punishment he might be allowed to eat anyway?

Door. Right next to the door where he was available right away. He drank a bit of water from the sink and knelt down next to the door, hands behind his back, wrists crossed, back straight, head bowed, thighs apart. That gave him an idea. He stroked himself until he was fully erect and then got back into position. Now hold that hard on.

When the door opened John was terrified he might have made a mistake. Sitting - well kneeling - there with his cock standing out proudly, rock hard and aching? He closed his eyes and made sure his posture was flawless. A moan almost made him look up, but he caught himself in time.

"Did you prepare yourself?"

Crap.

John swallowed.

"No sir, I'm sorry, I didn't."

"So what did you think would happen if you welcomed me like that, looking like the best fuck in the known universe?"

No anger, no malice. Praise.

"I tell you what happens. I'll have that gorgeous tight little ass of yours, fill you so completely that you'll come like never before. Get me that lube."

Oh thank God. He was in a good mood. The sex would be OK _and_ he might get dinner. One of the better nights.

~o0o~

A few nights later things didn't look so good. Gerald had taken him to dinner with a few of his friends, and he had tried to be on his best behavior, but Gerald was irritated and short tempered and the looks he gave John didn't bode well for when they got home. And then one of the men, Milton, put down his napkin and smiled at Gerald.

"Can I borrow this sweetie for a short moment?"

John stared a the man in shock but Gerald just nodded.

"Please", John tried, but it was fruitless. Milton put his hand on John's shoulder and steered him outside. John felt miserable. Gerald had threatened to share him or lend him out more than once, but he'd never really done it. Until now. Would pleading with the man do him any good? Outside the restaurant Milton put him with his back against a wall, in plain sight of the men inside.

"Hey. Look at me."

John swallowed, but he obeyed.

"I don't know what the deal is with you and Gerald but you don't look too happy. If you ever need anything – call me."

He leaned in and kissed him. John felt Milton's hand on his ass, then in his back pocket. John was stunned. His mind was racing.

"I...owe him. I do feel grateful to him."

"I get that. Shelter, food,... But does he treat you OK?"

"I earn my keep."

"On your back. Or... knees. Or whatever. Look I just want you to know you don't have to stay with him if you don't want to. OK?"

~o0o~

When Milton's comm beeped he recognized the voice right away. John sounded as if he had been crying.

"I think I need help."

"OK, where's Gerald?"

"I don't know. He's not home."

"I'm on my way. Keep talking to me. What happened?"

"I'm puking blood."

"What?!"

"He hit me. Earlier tonight. Not just my face, my body, too. I fell asleep, and when I woke up, the pain was worse and I was sick and - there was blood."

"OK I need you to stay calm. I know that's easier said than done but try not to panic. I'll be there in - nine minutes. Can you lock yourself in somewhere if he comes home before I get there?"

"Uh, yeah."

"OK. Do that right now. But keep talking. Are you safe?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"How's the pain?"

"Getting worse. I'm having trouble breathing."

"Shit. Shit! OK I'll call you an ambulance. Stay on the line."

~o0o~

Milton was sitting by John's hospital bed when the kid woke up. He saw the panic in John's eyes and gave him a smile.

„Don't worry. They're not gonna let him in here. You're safe."

John relaxed a little. Milton cleared his throat.

"I assume he's done that before? I've never noticed bruises on you though."

John kept his eyes closed. His voice was perfectly neutral.

"I wouldn't go out while I was sporting bruises."

It made Milton flinch. Son of a bitch. He'd make sure the authorities knew what kind of person Gerald was. What he had done to John. A small sound made him look at the boy in the hospital bed, and he noticed a single tear running from the corner of John's eye.

John drew in a shaky breath.

"I can't go back to him. I'll have to find a place but – if I go back to him, I don't know -"

"We'll find a way. They'll keep you here for a while anyway. And after that – if you want to, you can stay with me."

~o0o~

The day John was released from the hospital Milton picked him up and took him home. When they made it to Milton's apartment John looked around, and then at him.

"Where do you want me?"

"Good Lord that guy is an even bigger jerk than I thought."

He put down what little stuff John owned – basically things they'd bought on their way from the hospital.

"There's a couch in my study down the hall. It's quite comfy actually. I thought we could make that your room. I don't really work in there a lot. What do you think?"

John started to smile.

"I think I'd like that. Thank you, Milton."

"You're welcome."

Milton watched John take in the small but pleasant room. He'd decorated it in warm colors, planning on spending some free time there reading or meditating, but he'd ended up in the living room most of the time. So it wasn't a big deal to give it up – and he was happy to have John around. He blushed a little when he realized John had caught him staring. John gave him a wide smile.

"I like it a lot. Are you sure you don't need it?"

"Yes I am. Make yourself comfortable."

John stood a little closer. Milton swallowed. The boy was dangerous...so beautiful. So sweet.

"I -"

Milton cleared his throat, his heart beating high in his throat.

"Can I kiss you, John?", he asked, his voice hushed.

The kid held his gaze, smile in place.

"Sure."

"You can say no, you know?"

"What are you gonna do if I do?"

"Try again some other time", Milton said with a soft smile. It made his eyes sparkle. They were gray with a touch of something else, almost turquoise. John leaned in, standing on the balls of his feet. First time he kissed a man out of his free will... It felt good, gentle, almost loving.

"I adore you already, John", Milton breathed when John drew back. John blushed a little – which made him even more beautiful. Very, _very_ dangerous.

~o0o~

One night a few days later, while they were having dinner, Milton looked at John.

"Is there anything you wanna tell me?", he asked, his voice neutral.

John put down his fork and tilted his head.

"Erm, judging from the way you're looking at me I assume the answer is yes?"

"You lied to me."

"Huh?"

"Well not specifically to me but pretty much to everyone."

"I'm sorry, I -"

"Your name isn't John Hart. And I'm not sure you're 16."

"You screened me? How did you do that?"

"I have a lot of friends in interesting places. So?"

John sighed.

"Officially my last name isn't Hart. That's my dad's name. I'm registered under my mother's name, but I never wanted that."

"You should change it then."

John looked surprised.

"Can I just do that?"

"You'll need your papers, and you'd probably have to be 16. Are you?"

He bit his lip.

"I will be in five weeks."

"OK. So you _are_ underage."

"Well, yes."

"Which means I should have turned that bastard Gerald in for more than just physical abuse. Still should."

"Please don't."

"Actually _you_ should do it."

"He - never forced me. I never said no."

"Did you like what was going on?"

"Well, not all of it, but I usually deserved some - discipline."

"John, whatever he did to you, none of it was your fault. And technically it would have been illegal even if it had been consensual."

"Which means you and I are illegal too."

"Yes. We are. Or will be, if we do anything before your birthday."

"What does that mean? For me?"

"What -"

"Are you kicking me out? Since I'm not, you know, of use."

"For heaven's sake John. I'm crazy about you. You really think I'd throw you out of my house because I can't have sex with you?"

"It's five weeks. That's a long time."

"Yes."

Milton looked at him.

"It is. Technically I shouldn't even have kissed you."

John's smile turned cheeky.

"Technically, I kissed _you._ "

Milton chuckled.

"True."

John's eyes sparkled.

"What if I did that again?"

Milton's gut clenched and he swallowed.

"I wouldn't - object."


End file.
